Star Wars: X-Wing: Lusankya (Redux)
by Shadow Chaser
Summary: Imperial spy: that was the label branded onto Tycho Celchu after his return from the infamous Lusankya facility. This is the recount of his capture, escape, and return to the Rebel Alliance.
Star Wars: X-Wing: Lusankya

by: Shadow Chaser

 **Author's Notes:**

This is a re-write of my original _Lusankya_ fanfic that I had written between 2001-2008. When I first started the original story, I thought I was prepared to write a psychological thriller – I was wrong. Since the last chapter that had been published, my writing had certainly improved and I think I'm ready to tackle Tycho Celchu's untold story of his infiltration into Coruscant, capture by Ysanne Isard and placement in her Lusankya facility, and his escape from Akrit'tar.

There are many things I want to say about the new canon, the stuffing of the old canon into "Legends" banner and so forth, but I digress. There is one thing that I was always hoping for that never got published was a comic, or even a novel about Tycho's imprisonment and escape. It served as the backbone to the first four _X-Wing_ books and I was sad to see the old canon go away without the story ever being fully told. So, here it is – the definitive version of _Lusankya_. May the Force be with you.

 **Summary:**

Imperial spy: that was the label branded onto Tycho Celchu after his return from the infamous Lusankya facility. This is the recount of his capture, escape, and return to the Rebel Alliance.

 **Story:**

* * *

 _Chapter 1_

Captain Tycho Celchu wanted to scratch the beard that he had spent the last week growing. It wasn't as full as he had liked it to be, but it hid his features enough and gave him a scruffier look than most people were used to seeing on him. Then again, most people had always commented that he looked aristocratic and cold, so perhaps the beard softened some of that hard edge everyone associated with him. The only downside was that against the TIE helmet he wore inside the cockpit of the starfighter he was in, it itched a bit. Facial hair was usually frowned upon per military regulations, but if it was well-groomed and kept neat, it was allowed under certain circumstances.

"Captain Tavish we have clearance from Golan-Four that we can proceed down whenever we feel like it," a youthful voice broke through his comm. system and Tycho nodded absently.

"Let's make one more orbital pass, I want to enjoy view," he keyed his comm. back with the laconic reply.

A small bark of laughter issued over the comm. as the youthful voice came back, "Yes sir. It is definitely beautiful."

Tycho angled his TIE fighter to make one more pass around the orbit of the city-wide planetscape that was Coruscant, smiling for another reason all together, nothing to do with the beauty that was the heart of the Empire and former seat of the Old Republic. His sensors were picking up all sorts of data for the last two orbits he had while waiting for the Golan Defense Station to approve of their descent to the planet.

The data he pulled from the heavily modified TIE fighter he was flying was about the Golan space fortresses, defense shields, orbital solar collection mirrors, skyhooks, dry docks and ship factories, every conceivable thing that was orbiting the planet, including the ships that were coming in and out of the planet. All of it was to be extracted later when he finally did make his descent, but he had not been told about that process during his initial briefing at least a month ago.

As he watched the sensors continue to do their work, unobtrusively placed within the rounded cockpit of his TIE fighter so that any regular tech would not quite notice it unless he or she knew what they were looking for, his mind wandered back to when he had accepted General Cracken's offer of an intelligence mission involving Imperial transports.

He had only recently been promoted to Captain, only to find that Admiral Ackbar and the rest of Alliance military were thinking of disbanding Rogue Squadron after so many casualties and transfers. Perhaps they had already been expected to be decommissioned after the failed mission to bring back Sate Pestage on Ciurtic. They had also lost one of their most beloved pilots, Ibtisam. Xarrce had transferred soon after that with Fel disappearing soon after a rumor regarding his wife, Syal, had come across Alliance channels. Nrin transferred after realizing that he needed time away from the squadron to deal with his loss. Avan and Feylis had also put in their requests, hoping to stay alive in the most notorious squadron which had acquired a gruesome nickname in recent campaigns, the Squadron of Death.

Tycho had ignored the darker rumors, but he also knew that Rogue Squadron's reputation for doing the impossible came at high costs and odds. After all of the metaphoric dust had settled, the final blow was the fact that Wes Janson and Hobbie Klivian, his two closest friends, aside from Wedge, had been transferred out to train new pilots in Corsair Squadron as well as other training squadrons.

Then General Airen Cracken had asked him if he wanted to volunteer for a highly sensitive mission involving Imperial transports. He knew that the only reason Cracken sought him out was because of his connection to one of his best agents, Winter. There were definitely others in the Alliance who were qualified to pilot Imperial transports. Tycho had jumped at the chance to see her after being parted for several months and agreed. The General however, warned him that the mission was highly dangerous and involved a lot of secrecy and coding. He also cautioned that if he or any of those he interacted with were to be caught, the chance of escape or a rescue would be little to none.

He had readily accepted it, and Cracken gave him details on the initial step of the mission. He was to infiltrate one of the smaller _Victory-class_ Star Destroyers, the _Asperity_ _,_ that was stationed on Kuat. He was to pose as the son of one of the minor shipping families who owned the Kuat Drive Yards, and through there, become a TIE pilot. Spies aboard the destroyer had then fed him, over the course of four weeks, the sensor packages and modifications that he could put into his TIE to complete his mission. The TIE he had been assigned was specific, ordered by the Executive Officer of the ship to whom he realized was an Alliance spy. The XO had told him that this fighter had been initially modified at Bakura, but still needed some more components so they had declared it junk and spare parts until he came aboard. The technicians who were loyal to the Alliance would then suddenly find that they could repair it after discovering what made it junk and give it to him so he could completely his mission.

After the modifications had been completed a signal had been sent out to the spies on Coruscant to fabricate orders for him and several other TIE pilots for transfers to planet-side duties for the next few months. Those orders now had Tycho orbiting the planet to await his and his squadmates' approval to land. He had been told that his final step was to land his fighter where the spies within the air base would then take the modifications he had placed in his TIE and send out the data packets. That was the end of his mission and he would mysteriously disappear after meeting someone, perhaps to elope. Tycho hoped that Winter would be his contact in that, not that he minded or anything.

His cover was Joak Tavish, third son of Elrim Tavish and thus the throw-away son. The Tavish were a traditional family, the heir, the spare, and him, the throw-away son who could serve the Empire. Elrim Tavish was a minor owner of the Kuat Drive Yards and was secretly an Alliance contact within the Yards. It had been easy to blend in with Tavish and his family and Tycho found that he had no trouble adapting his own Alderaanian accent to match the softer rolling ones of the Kuat business-class. Since both planets were coreworlds, and Tycho having grown up as the merchant son of Novacom's owner, he had a hard Alderaanian accent that was seen in both the business and upper-class of the planet's elite. Princess Leia kept her accent to maintain her homeworld identity amongst the leaders of the New Republic, while Winter had to lose it at times for the fact that she was an intelligence agent.

Tycho admired Winter's ability to switch from regular Basic to an Alderaanian slant effortlessly, like switching disguises. It had first shocked him when she had met him in Cilpar to hear her sound exactly like Princess Leia, only for her to drop it when she had introduced herself to Wes and him; and to pick it up once more when she had been captured.

It was Elrim Tavish who had paid a few bribes for the _Asperity_ to "take" his third son away, spreading the rumor at the same time that Joak Tavish was a troublemaker who had no disregard for his family's honor and was just sleeping with every female he laid his eyes on. Tycho did not exactly appreciate that bit of adding to his cover as the first time he had gotten when he reported aboard the ship was the female technicians, both human and alien alike, making passes at him. But he had readily played along with it, keeping the females at a distance, earning him the reputation that he was playing hard to get which inadvertently made them want him all the more.

It was easy then for the XO of the ship to bring up his troublesome reputation with the fast transfer of him to planet-side duties at Coruscant. The captain of the ship was apparently a no nonsense by-the-book Imperial that Tycho would have vaped any other day and disliked him from day one.

His computer beeped at him, drawing him out of his thoughts as he turned the yoke and began his descent into the city-wide planet. Out of the corner of his viewport, he saw four other TIEs following him, the others who were also to be transferred to planet-side duties. Tycho knew their names, but also knew that all were staunch Imperials. He would have tried to convince a few of them to turn to the Alliance, but Cracken had emphasized the importance of security and secrecy on the mission. Even if some had Alliance sympathies and expressed it to him, he could do nothing for them.

Soaring through the cloud layer, Tycho kept a firm grip on the stick of his TIE, feeling the crosswinds batter against his flat sheer panels. If there was one thing he disliked about the TIEs, lack of shielding not withstanding, it was that it absolutely was horrendous in terms of crosswind and atmospheric flight. At least in space, there was no crosswind to deal with, but he much preferred either an A-wing or his trusty X-wing.

They descended into the lower atmosphere and Tycho took a surreptitious glance at the data scrolling through his feeds. It was not much, especially since he could not make any excuse to do a low-atmosphere orbit to justify getting more data, but it would have to do. He brought in the rest of his flight group into the hanger bay that was waiting for them and landed. He went through the shut down procedures, breathing out a quiet sigh of relief that he had all but completed his mission without any incident. This was the last step in his mission, to let the spies in the air base get the data packets that had recorded everything about the planetary defenses of Coruscant out through various channels. The greatest risk was when he had been orbiting the planet, waiting for approval to land. There was a chance that any of his fellow pilots could have picked up on his benign scans or even the Golan Space Defenses picked up on anomalies, but the _Asperity's_ executive officer and the Alliance technicians aboard the Imperial star destroyer had done their jobs well.

Removing his helmet, he finished the last of his post-flight checks, and tapped a few things into his astronav computer. It was an encryption program that Cracken had made him memorize and input into his computer. This ensured that the data he had scanned would be destroyed if someone other than those who knew about his mission planet-side tried to access the hidden files in his computer. Tycho scratched at his beard again and took one last look around his cockpit before opening the hatch to his TIE. He climbed down, and saw the members of his flight group gathering around each other, two of them with wide smiles on their faces. Beyond them, he could see the air base's commanding officer approaching.

They had been transferred to planetary defense due to their familial or even military connections – far away from the front lines of the war and what was considered a very laconic and easy position. Opportunities would more than likely arise due to the proximity in which they were near the heart of the the Empire; the coming and goings of high ranking officers that reported to Ysanne Isard who was the nominal leader of the Empire since Palpatine's fall and Sate Pestage's outing. Tycho had heard the rumors of other warlords, like Zsinj that had broken away as soon as Isard had declared herself the new leader – but not Empress – of the Empire, but it seemed that she had amassed the loyalty and power of the others of the fleet considering how hard it had been for the Alliance to make ground against the Empire after Endor.

"Captain!" the youthful voice of his wingman pulled him out of his thoughts as he saw him wave at him and he headed towards them.

"Lieutenant," he greeted with an air of a lazy manner and saw the young man grin. Lieutenant Arn Ivass was a fresh-faced recruit from Carida, one that was a fair-hand in a TIE, but in Tycho's opinion, not good enough to have been granted his rank of Lieutenant upon graduation. That rank was reserved for the top one-percentile across all of the Imperial Academies. Most who graduated from either Carida's Aerospace Force or Prefsbelt IV's Naval Academy graduated with the rank of Flight Officer. But then again, he knew that all four pilots in his flight were from influential backgrounds and more than likely had strings pulled to get them to their positions. It was how his background as Joak Tavish had been created, to match theirs. Except, Tycho could not resist showing off his skills in a TIE during the four weeks he had been stationed on the _Asperity_. It at least made him feel a little more at ease with his cover – to prove to those that even though he had money and power, he had earned his rank of Captain through sheer skill.

"Captain Tavish, I presume?" the sharp cold voice of what had to be the air base's commanding officer made him turn with a wiry smile on his face.

"Commander Tyris," he presented the commander with a crisp salute, but saw him frown at the tone he had used to greet him. Tycho had to admit, it was a little bit easy for him to play Joak Tavish with a carefree manner, but also with the clear military discipline that had been instilled in him from the Kuat military academy.

Tyris saluted back and Tycho lowered his hand as the other man looked around at the five new TIE fighters that had been added to his air base. "I welcome you and your flight group to Coruscant. Your transfer was granted to add to the air defense that will be overseeing the Imperial Center sectors and Golan Four through Six. As of present, you will be placed under my second-in-command's flight group, Captain Falco Avin. He is currently leading a CAP, but will report back in about four hours."

"I will meet with him then, sir," Tycho nodded.

"Good," Tyris glanced at the others before back at him, "my orders were to give you and your men a week of shore leave, but I will leave it to Captain Avin's discretion as to when that leave starts."

"Sir," Tycho frowned. This was not how his extraction plan was to go, and he did not want to risk taking his modified TIE out again before the technicians and spies who were on the base got the chance to extract his data. However, he saw Tyris arch an eyebrow at him and cleared his throat before nodding his head once. "Yes sir," he had no choice but to go along with what Tyris said for now. He would have to probably convince this Captain Avin to let him go on a week of shore leave right away instead of delaying it.

It was an underhanded tactic and proved to Tycho that Tyris was not happy to be getting what he more than likely perceived as five well-to-do flyboys whose families had nothing to do but wait for them to be promoted up the ranks. But it also told Tycho that Tyris was a career military man who tried his best to make good of his circumstances for the pilots he received – and ruthlessly punished those he perceived as lacking to his standards. That laconic perception he had greeted Tyris with must have shot all goodwill and perceptions the commander had for him down into the Maw. It also told him that Avin and Tyris were more than likely of the same mind.

"Here are your quarters," Tyris handed him a datapad with information about their bunking situations on base, "report to me tomorrow at oh-eight hundred for your CAP placement and debrief."

"Sir," Tycho saluted again, this time keeping his tone and posture professional and saw Tyris give him a shrewd look before nodding to the rest of his men and walked away.

"Captain?" Ivass spoke up and he turned, letting the irritation show on his face. It was something he would have never done in front of Wedge or any of the Rogues, especially in such a public setting, but as Tavish, he played loose with the rules.

"Leave currently on hold," he announced and saw his men groan but affected a smile, "I'll chat with the nice Captain Avin. It's probably just a delay. Anyways, here are your bunking arrangements. Try not to get into any fights for the next four hours."

"Sir," his men tossed him casual salutes as he gave the datapad to Ivass who left with the others. In the four weeks he had taken command of his flight group, he had earned the respect of the men enough to know that they would adhere to his promise, especially since they too wanted to go on leave.

Seeing that his men were settled, Tycho decided to head to the nearest terminal to do a little research on Captain Avin before he returned from his CAP – combat aerospace patrol. He could not do anything about the data packages right now, nor could he risk sending a message out to whomever was to be his contact that he was going to be delayed, but he would be damned if he was going to be stuck on Coruscant with a hotbed of information the Alliance desperately needed.

* * *

Wedge Antilles wished he did not need the information in front of him. In fact, if he had his way, he would have gladly – and maybe a bit gleefully – shoved it all onto Tycho as a bit of a prank of sorts. But his best friend had undertaken a mission that neither Admiral Ackbar or General Cracken would say what it was about; only that it was of the highest import and very risky and that Tycho had volunteered for it. So that left Wedge with the pile of information and paperwork that he really did not want to go through.

Ackbar had approached him with the idea to reform Rogue Squadron a couple of weeks since Tycho's departure and Wedge immediately understood what it was really about. Rogue Squadron was a symbol to the Alliance, and with all of the recent transfers and deaths from campaigns, attrition had worn it down to the point where it needed to be revitalized. But Wedge had not predicted how big of a symbol Rogue Squadron had been until he had started to receive applications from hundreds, if not maybe a thousand of fighter jockeys, recent defectors, even though who had recently made treaties with the Alliance. It seemed like everyone wanted to join the infamous Rogue Squadron – even though they had recently earned the nickname the Squadron of Death. No one seemed to care that the attrition rate and mortality rate of Rogues was far greater than the survival rate.

A brief extraneous though crossed Wedge's mind if Ackbar knew of how popular of a symbol the Rogues were. He must have, considering how he knew the Admiral's mind worked.

Still, the flimsi and paperwork was a little high on his desk at the Alliance's training center on Folor, and to his eyes teetered a little precariously. He frowned and gently nudged a couple of the errant flimsi sticking out back into the pile before leaning back against his chair and stared at the one he held in his hand. There had been two stacks and a third one was slowly growing on his desk while a fourth one grew next to the leg of his desk on the floor. That was to discard – old rosters and files on pilots who did not meet the qualifications to join Rogue Squadron. A lot of the fresh green recruits who had just graduated Folor's training program were in that pile, but he had browsed a few and had a few down for consideration – his slowly growing third pile.

The two higher piles were split because one contained those already in squadrons or had graduated other training programs. The others were political appointees who had a vested interest in the Alliance or had recent treaties. Admiral Ackbar's request for Rogue Squadron to have half of its slots as political appointees left a slight distaste in Wedge's mouth. He understood that Rogue Squadron was a symbol of the Alliance, but he had been prepared to negotiate that he picked the members, even if they were political appointees. They had to meet his requirements to join Rogue Squadron – and surprisingly had even won that battle without even a single shot fired. Ackbar had readily agreed while General Salm who was also reforming his Y-wing Defender Wing, had only snorted.

Wedge rubbed his eyes and tried to read the flismi he was holding, blinking a bit as the words continued to blur. Not more than once, he wished Tycho, Wes, or even Hobbie was here to help him with this. Ackbar had asked if he needed someone to help, but Wedge had stubbornly refused, hoping to ask that he get Wes or Hobbie back to help him since Tycho was on a mission, but that had been for naught. Wes and Hobbie had been transferred out to form their own training squadrons and teach what they knew to incoming pilots and fresh-faced recruits and there was no getting them back for now. The Mon Calamari Admiral had not said how long Tycho would be on his mission nor had General Cracken given him any information about it, but Wedge hoped that his friend would be back soon. He really hated looking through the rosters without a second opinion and Tycho was the only other one who had not officially transferred or leave Rogue Squadron.

A gentle knock on his door made him look up. "Come in," he said, suppressing a yawn while he glanced at the clock. It was only mid-afternoon.

"Hey," Wes Janson's head popped in and Wedge could not kill the smile that appeared on his face, "heading to DownTime. Knew you were in here since you missed lunch with us."

"Sithspit," Wedge swore as he shook his head, "that was today?" He had forgotten that he would get lunch with Wes and Hobbie since he had been buried in paperwork and the like.

"Well, you could make it up by buying us a round or two," Wes had a mischievous grin on his face and Wedge rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, sure," he placed the flimsi down and stood up, glaring at the two piles that swayed a little at his movement. Thankfully, they stayed in place as he rounded his desk and followed Wes out.

"Looks like fun," Wes commented as made their way to the tapcafe on the base. It was considered the only good one on the base, the commissary providing none of the drinks that were served at DownTime. There was an officer's club, but Wedge felt uncomfortable in the club for the most part, surrounded by higher ranking officers who clearly commanded fleets instead of snubfighters. He was far more comfortable hanging out with the rest of the pilots even though he knew that Ackbar wanted to promote him time and time again.

This recent reformation of Rogue Squadron had come with an attached promotion to General, but Wedge had politely refused in so many words – or rather no words except for a pointed look and a return of the bars that marked him as a General. Ackbar had not said anything for a full minute before Wedge felt like he had to say something. He had explained to the Admiral that he was better at commanding a small group of snubfighter jockeys than a full wing like General Salm. Ackbar had only stared at him with his bulbous eyes, before seemingly giving him a congenial smile – as much as he was able to read a Mon Calamari's expressions.

"You offering your help?" Wedge asked, glancing at his friend and Wes only laughed.

"I wish," he shrugged, "but I got my own duty rosters and training rosters to look through, "though I do admit that my stacks aren't as high as yours. Yours look like you can just nudge it a little bit and they'll fall."

"Don't remind me," Wedge shook his head as they entered and he spotted Hobbie waving at them from one of the corner tables. It looked like a lot of the Y-wing pilots that General Horton Salm had been testing out were in here, some drinking in celebration, other commiserating in their failures.

"Where's Tycho, I thought he'd be helping you in all of this since, you know, he's the only one left who wasn't either force transferred or decided to get out," Wes asked as they slid into their seats and Wedge signaled to the waitress.

"Lomin ale," he ordered and she nodded before leaving with his order. Hobbie already had a lomin ale in front of him, while another sat in front of Wes. "Tycho's on a mission," he said, "don't know where, don't know when he'll be back."

"Might have something to do with Winter. I ran into her and Kapp Dendo a few days ago," Hobbie shrugged, taking a sip of his ale before licking the foam off of the top of his lips as the waitress returned with Wedge's order and he dropped a few credits onto her tray in return.

He took a long swig of his ale, letting the sour bitterness fill him before the warmth of the alcohol hit him and started to relax the tension that had been gathering in him. "Needed that..." he commented and saw his two friends smile while shaking their heads.

"Wedge, you work too hard, you do realize that right?" Wes commented and he rolled his eyes at him.

"Someone has to babysit all of you," he replied before looking at Hobbie, "Winter or Kapp say where they're going?"

"Nope," Hobbie replied, "but I wouldn't put it past Tycho to take on a quick mission to spend some more time with Winter."

"The guy is smitten," Wes laughed lightly, "totally smitten. Head-over-heels and I am going to tease him about this after he gets back. Seriously. Wedding bells, everything. I mean who takes on missions to spend time with their lady love? I know it's got to be an adrenaline rush thing, but seriously..."

Wedge had to smile at Wes' argument, but held up his hand, "Now, now, we can't go teasing Tycho if he's not here to defend himself."

"Admit it Wedge, you just want him back so you can foist paperwork on him," Wes countered and Wedge gave him a narrowed-eyed look, but softened it with a smile and a sip of his ale.

"I think I'm going to talk to Ackbar after this and request that the two of you come back to the Rogues so I can foist the paperwork on you two troublemakers," he grinned into his drink and saw Hobbie's eyes grow wide as he shook his head.

"Yeah, as much as I'd like to come back, it won't be for the paperwork," Wes shook his head, "but seriously, I've already sent in the application to come back after the first training squadron is set in a few months, but it's already been rejected."

Wedge's good humor evaporated as he frowned, taking another sip of his ale and letting the bitter liquid burn down his throat, "Wait, really?"

"Yeah," the dark-haired man shook his head.

"I'll talk to the Admiral, see what's going on," Wedge could not believe that even a delayed application for Hobbie and Wes had already been rejected. He took another sip, feeling the tension that had been building since the morning melt a little more away and cleared his throat, "So, aside from that, how's training?"

"Different," Hobbie replied, running a hand through his short lighter brown hair, "it's like teaching the newer Rogues the finer points, but you have to go easy on the newer recruits. They don't have as much experience even though some do come with experience or from other military academies. Reminds me of my time at the Imperial Naval Academy at Prefsbelt IV before I graduated. One of the things they had the senior cadets do before we graduated was a mentoring program of sorts, pay-unto-forward type of thing. Basically it makes sure that the incoming recruits are vetted and processed to see if the rigors of combat are right for them."

"What happened to those who didn't pass the process?" Wedge was rather curious about the subject. Hobbie and even Biggs rarely talked about their time at the Academy, only extolling on what had happened when they had defected. Wedge had been too intimidated, too new to the Rebellion in the months before Yavin to even think of asking them what had happened. But now, with everything that had happened so far, he was curious as to why Ackbar had specifically pulled them from Rogue Squadron to the training squadrons on the base.

"Carida usually gave them another chance with their aerospace programs, but some of them went back to the smaller private military academies like Kuat's or even their local planetary defense forces that were loyal to the Empire," Hobbie shrugged after a mouthful of lomin ale, "basically the Empire took on applicants, but it was up to the students to weed out those who would strengthen or hinder the Empire's fighter force."

"Explains how you managed to get a good sized crew to follow you when you and Biggs defected," Wes grinned and Hobbie returned the smile with a nod.

"Biggs was really great at the whole speech thing, but I was the one who picked out a lot of the crew for the _Rand Ecliptic_ ," if Wedge did not know Hobbie any better, it practically sounded arrogant, but he knew Hobbie. To him, it meant that Hobbie was able to easily read people and determine their strengths and skills to help him and Biggs out. Hobbie had an eye for talent and for skill-set. He picked the ones that were hardened Rebel sympathizers, those who would be able to keep the secret of their defection until they escaped. It also meant those who threw the other students off of their trail until it was too late – classmates like Tycho who had not initially defected with Biggs and Hobbie due to either conflicts of interest or otherwise.

Wedge knew Tycho's history with Biggs and Hobbie, but also knew that his friend was one of the people who initially wanted to try to change the Empire from within, from the military standpoint without going into open rebellion like many of his fellow Alderaanians. He could see why Biggs and Hobbie had left him behind when they made their escape. Tycho had been a wild card, one who clearly had Rebel sympathies, but apparently was also trying to change the system from within – so they did not know where his true loyalties stood.

But he also knew that once Tycho had defected after Alderaan's destruction and the Battle of Yavin had destroyed the Death Star, Hobbie was the first one to vouchsafe him. It took Wedge a little longer to truly include and trust Tycho due to misconceptions and his suspicion as to why he had only defected _after_ Alderaan and Yavin, and not before. He had only come around after Luke had openly accepted Tycho into Rogue Flight at Hoth and even then, it was after a pretty epic bar fight that involved snow balls.

"So," he swirled the rest of his ale and downed a gulp of it, "feels like you're back at the Academy?"

"Pretty much, except I don't have to keep as much secrets or watch my back," Hobbie nodded a little, "there's already a couple of promising recruits, but still need some polishing."

"Oh yeah, that kid...Corellian, right?" Wes agreed, "Dantos...Donos, something like that."

"Myn Donos," Hobbie supplied, "Corellian Armed Forces, sniper...I think. He's got some skill, but definitely needs some polish work."

"Is he in the pile that's waiting for me back in my office?" Wedge would not say no to anyone that Hobbie or Wes recommended, though he was still hoping to bring his case to Admiral Ackbar for their transfer back into the squadron.

"No, he didn't fly much, but he's apparently a natural with an X-wing," Wes tapped the bottom of his chin in thought before Wedge finished the rest of his ale.

"Sure I can't send you the applications?" Wedge asked, as he set his tumbler down and saw both of his friends give him looks over the rims of their ales.

"We like you Wedge-" Hobbie began.

"-but not enough to become your secretaries," Wes concluded and Wedge laughed a little.

"Well, let me see if I can get your applications approved and then we'll see who's going through the paperwork with me," he stood up, stretching a little, "thanks for the drink guys. It's good to get out of the office from time to time."

"Hey, we're down at Docking Bay 43 if you want to light up the recruits' targeting systems from time to time," Wes offered and Wedge nodded.

"Seems like a good idea. Just don't let them know it's me," it had been a couple of weeks since he flew and Wedge was starting to miss the feel of flying. This current round of applications and recruiting really told him that he was not suited for a desk job and was glad that he had returned the promotion that Admiral Ackbar had tried to hide behind everything.

"Will do," Hobbie called after him as he left them and headed back to his office.

He felt a little more re-energized with the drink and conversation he had with his friends. Sitting back down at his desk and eyeing the gently swaying towers of paperwork, he decided his first order of business was not to continue to look at applicants, but rather to figure out why Hobbie and Wes' transfers were rejected, even if it was for a few months after they finished the initial training squadrons. He really needed Tycho or even his friends back to help him with reforming Rogue Squadron.


End file.
